


Fragments of a Destiny Unknown

by ThePinkFoxx (CaramelClouds)



Category: Legends of the Guardian-King
Genre: Early Work, Gen, Internal Monologue, One Shot, Reflection, different POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-10
Updated: 2006-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaramelClouds/pseuds/ThePinkFoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken captive on the Esurhite galley ship along with Prince Abramm, Captain Trap Meridon battles not only the physical strains, but combats his memories of betrayal and inner turmoil. We finally learn what Trap was up to on board the ship...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragments of a Destiny Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> One shot from Trap's POV. This particular fan-fic is set in book one "The Light of Eidon" and centres around Trap's thoughts instead of Abramm's whilst they are on the galley ship. A small amount of shipping between Trap and Carissa also occurs in it's very early stages. Early works - written 2006.

Darkness swept about in waves of unanswerable folly, a half-reality that teased and tossed at Meridon's consciousness. As always, over the last few gruelling days, it dissolved into a momentary blur before the wave of exhaustion passed until he could make out the wooden oars and smell the musty smoke, as well as the pungent scent of unwashed bodies aboard the Esurhite galley ship.

The steady drumbeat thundered deeply, his callused and bloody hands gripping the oar, forcing out yet another stroke. It had been a week or so since he, Captain Trap Meridon of the Royal Guard, had been sold into slavery, a dragon emblem burnt into his flesh. Sold to a troupe of Esurhite Gamers to fight, and even die in the arena for the enjoyment of people in a foreign land. He gritted his teeth, blistered hands rubbing painfully against splintered oak, his strained limbs and cramped muscle screaming torture.

_Oh Lord Eidon, I know you allow trials in our lives to strengthen us and help us grow, but I tire none the less. I can't take much more of this my Lord. Please give me the strength to make it through and the knowledge of what part I am to play._

Meridon's brown eyes settled momentarily on the bundle heaped on the bench beside him. Beaten, bruised and stripped of all dignity but undeniably Prince Abramm. A day or two had lapsed since the Prince had joined the crew on board the ship – not that time was a particularly important reality anymore. Whilst Abramm too had been savagely branded with the rampant dragon, unlike others he had not called out, did not protest but rather his face held a different look – one of a man who had lost all hope, a man who had been shattered into a million pieces. He still had not woken and quite frankly Meridon was concerned.

The quirt lashed at the exposed skin through his torn tunic, like the tongue of a venomous snake, startling him from his compassion. Sweat ran with fresh blood, muscles throbbing painfully.

Slave.

_Oh Ray, I thought you were my friend – after everything we've been through. How could you?_

Each stroke of the oar seemed to taunt him, ripping open his memories like a fresh wound. The initial shock of hearing that  _he_ had killed the Initiate Brother had long since faded into distant memory. Meridon knew he should have expected something of this magnitude; the Mataio had been against the moment they learnt he wore the mark of a Terstan,  _and_  his friendship with King Raynen of course. It was ridiculous how they had linked the death back to him. Guardian's had come to the palace and arrested him for murder giving him the death sentence … but … somehow Eidon had provided a way – though not in the way Meridon would have expected.

A small terror sparked in his middle, a dark chasm that threatened to swallow him up. In a feeble attempt to calm himself, he directed his thoughts at his younger brother; Philip Meridon. Philip had a tendency to act on impulse and although Trap was proud of his brother's faith in Eidon, he was also worried that Philip would get himself into unnecessary danger. Well, at least he was safe at home in Sterlen.

_Please don't let him do anything stupid …_

Abramm shuffled slightly drawing a troubled glance from Captain Meridon.

Why had Prince Gillard staged such a terrible thing – to his own flesh and blood? Why had Raynen allowed it? Encouraged it?

_You already know the answer to that, Trap._

It was well known that there was open resentment between Gillard and Abramm during childhood, but even Meridon was bewildered by Prince Gillard's intentions.

The drumming stopped, allowing the captives their first break from rowing all day. Reaching up a bloodied hand, Meridon wiped his damp brow, the salt making him cringe.

A shuffling to his left brought murky brown water, though the Captain was too weary to see who. Looking down into the water, his own freckled face gazed back at him; tired and covered with grime. He rubbed the jaw-line above the matted beard, noting a lot of the boyish roundness gone, replaced with more defined features. Muscles twitched in protest as he lifted the bowl and drank. Choking down its vile taste he turned once more to shake his companion but as per usual Abramm did not wake. He looked so fragile, so naïve and again Meridon wondered how the Prince would survive.

" _He has more steel in him than people think."_

" _He could've been good if he wanted to … a late bloomer … "_

" _Eidon will make a way. "_

He scratched his wiry red beard, swollen palms laying limp at his sides, feat shackled painfully tight. Looking at Abramm, an image of Carissa eased its way into Meridon's thoughts. It was uncanny how alike they were, even for fraternal twins – the same eyes, the same hawkish Kalladorne brow. Why  _he_  was thinking about the crowned Princess of Kiriath at a time like this seemed ridiculous, seeing as they had only met on one occasion before during childhood, and at times around the palace. He shrugged off the thought dismissively, stretching out his restricted legs as best he could.

 _Slave_.

What would the future bring? What was in store and where would it take him? Would he ever see Kiriath again? Meridon strengthened his resolve. It did not matter for there was a plan unfolding that he could not even begin to understand. All he could do at this point is what he had sworn to do – protect Abramm; and by all that was holy  _he was going to do it!_ The last wish of a dying and frightened King demanded it, and because of Raynen's decisions Abramm was now reaping the consequences.

They were alive, that he should at least be thankful for. Slowly Meridon slumped down over the oar, mind and body exhausted. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying as best he could to get comfortable before dozing and eventually snatching a few moments rest.

A poignant cackle startled Meridon awake. He shuffled, gathering his bearings only to realise Abramm had awoken. Slightly delusional, but clearly awake.

"So you  _are_ alive?" Trap asked slowly lifting his head, dark eyes focusing on the Prince, taking in the branded scab, the thin limbs and troubled eyes. Abramm could not keep the astonishment, and perhaps relief, from his face.

"Meridon?"

Trap smiled wryly in spite of himself. It was reassuring to see a familiar face. Despite all that had happened, the young man was indeed growing on him. Meridon shut his eyes as the blurred fatigue set in, reassuring fingers of sleep offered to wrap him in warm embrace.

_Almost. Not yet._

He sat for a moment's time, eyes closed … unmoving … compiling his thoughts before continuing. "After they chained you here last night, you sat like one enspelled. Then you fell over and nobody could rouse you, not even when we were called to oars. I thought I shared the bench with a dead man."

"Not yet" Abramm muttered defiantly.

Ah, there it was. The 'steel.' Meridon opened his eyes, gazing blankly at Abramm. The fifth son of the one-time King of Kiriath, even here the Prince could not escape his linage. He shut his eyes once more.

"Guess they figured out who you are. Can't find a much bigger name than yours." He sighed deeply. It was his responsibility to protect Abramm and Meridon couldn't help but feel he had failed in someway. "I'm sorry, my lord. You deserved none of this."

Though his eyes were closed, Meridon could sense the tensing of muscle, the intensity in the air sharpening with acrimony.

"I am not your lord" Abramm said bitterly "not anymore."

Meridon looked at him, observing the hard blue eyes, the ragged blonde hair and grimy unwashed body. Indeed the Prince was no better off than he. The realisation was disquieting.

"No" Trap regarded soberly "I suppose you aren't"

The familiar wave of extorsion marched on the offensive once more, sleep nagging at him to give himself over and this time Meridon simply closed his eyes and let it take him.

_Through my light I will shield and bless you._

Sore limbs and bloodied palms faded with the reality that was the galley ship as the Captain's breathing deepened and sleep claimed him at last.


End file.
